


Double Trouble

by AndSoIWrite



Series: Daddy Drabbles [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Daddy Sam, Fatherhood, Gen, Twins, Uncle Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:16:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndSoIWrite/pseuds/AndSoIWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's got twins. Twins that like to get lost in grocery stores.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Trouble

        Dean had gotten used to the fact that when he opened Sam’s front door, he was going to be bombarded by a flying human body. A miniature flying body, but still a body, with arms and legs and a head that liked to knock right into what Dean liked to call “his most precious commodities.”

         “Uncle Dean!”

         “Hello to you too, Tyler,” Dean said, keeping his hips carefully angled away from the five year’s old crushing hug.

         “Did you drive the ‘pala here? Did you bring us presents? Want to come see what I drew at school? Come look!” Then there were two small hands tugging Dean’s large one and he couldn’t help but grin. Tyler was basically Sam’s clone, down to the lanky limbs and long hair that he was always brushing out of his eyes. Dean dropped his duffel in the foyer and followed the tiny head in front of him.

         “Mama, Dean’s here!”

         “Dean! You’re early!”

         Sarah was standing at the sink, up to her elbows in soapy water but she threw Dean a smile over her shoulder. He managed to give her a kiss on the cheek before Tyler pulled him over to the kitchen table.

         “Look what I painted! Look, mine is the dinosaur! Right there!” Tyler scrambled onto a chair and leaned over the table, Dean automatically putting a hand out to steady the boy in case he fell. He wouldn’t of course; he was a Winchester and had inherited all of Sam and Dean’s speed and agility. The kid was five and already playing soccer in the fall and baseball in the summer, giving his parents a run for their money all year round. Dean bent over to examine the sloppy artwork; it looked more like a bunch of scribbles to him but he tried to act impressed.

         “Do you see it?” Tyler asked, still pointing.

         “Yeah, bud, I see it.” Dean said. “That’s awesome.” Tyler beamed. Everything that Uncle Dean said or did was cool, much to the chagrin of Sam. The kid was already enough like this uncle: Tyler was loud and outgoing and constantly trying to either befriend every kid in his grade or beat them up.

         “But Uncle Dean,” he had told his uncle a couple months, tiny face scrunched up and serious. “I had to push him to the ground because he maked fun of Ellie.”

         The kid was a loose cannon and Dean loved him for it.

         “Did you bring me any presents?” Tyler asked again as Dean scooped him off the chair and set him on the floor. Tyler was bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with energy; it made Dean tired just to look at him.

         “Not this time, kiddo.”

         “Why not?”

         “Tyler!” Sarah came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands with a rag before giving Dean a proper hug.

         “Sorry,” Tyler said and Dean ruffled the too-long hair.

         “Where’ve you been, mister?” Sarah asked, handing Dean a beer. “You haven’t been around in nearly two months. I thought Tyler was going to burn a hole in his tongue for all he was asking about you.”

         “Out and about,” Dean said, shrugging. He and Garth had teamed up to kill a nest of rogue vamps and then Garth ended up getting bit and from there, the whole Hunt got a lot trickier. Sarah gave a knowing nod and a tense smile. She didn’t like the fact that Dean hunted and he knew from Sam the two of them had gotten into it more than once over it. Sam knew there was nothing he could do or say to convince his brother to stop hunting but Sarah was ever fearful of Dean’s safety.

         “What am I supposed to tell the kids when you don’t come back?” she asked him once as he was leaving their house after another visit. That stay hadn’t ended well; he had shrugged and walked out the door, on his way to take down a Crocotta in Missoula. Later on, he apologized via phone and then again in person but Sarah still worried about her children’s reactions to the day beloved Uncle Dean didn’t show up for Christmas or their big soccer tournament.

         “Cole!” Tyler’s shriek of glee had Sarah and Dean turning their heads. Sam was coming up the stairs with Tyler’s twin brother in his arms, the kid’s legs wrapped tight around his waist, his face buried in Sam’s shoulder. Behind them was a kind looking woman who carried a huge black bag and a manila file folder. Dean noticed Sam shake his head to Sarah and she stepped forward quickly.

         “Tyler, go wash your hands for dinner!”

         “But Mom, I wanna play with Cole!”

         “Now!” Tyler glared at his mother, adding to his resemblance to his father; Dean could still see a five-year-old Sam glowering at him for similar reasons. Then his gaze fell and he trudged down the hallway to the bathroom.

         “I’ll see you next week, Cole,” the woman said, voice soft. She laid a hand on Cole’s back and the boy flinched away, burrowing into his father as much as he could. The lines around Sam’s mouth tightened. “Cole, can you wave goodbye to me?” the woman asked. The child did nothing.

         “Cole,” Sam said, nudging the boy off of his shoulder. “Uncle Dean is here.” The change was immediate. The little boy swiveled in Sam’s arms, almost ramming Sam in the jaw with his head. His eyes lit up when he saw Dean standing a few feet away and he reached his arms out, making grabbing motions with his fingers. Dean took him from Sam and the child immediately wrapped his arms around his neck, breathing a sigh right into Dean’s ear: Cole’s way of saying hello.

         They had been unable to diagnose Cole completely in the few years of his life other than the possibility of him being a selective mute. He understood everything anyone said to him and kept up in school, except for the whole not talking thing. Sarah and Sam had tried multiple therapists and programs but the kid never said a peep. He grinned but never laughed, cried but never sobbed. From what Dean understood, he had few friends at school, clinging to his brother when his parents weren’t around. Cole was also small for his age, a few inches shorter than Tyler and skinny as all get-out. But while Tyler took after Sam in looks, Cole was all Dean – from the sandy brown hair that stuck up in all directions in the morning to the green eyes that blinked wide along with his silence.

         “Hey, buddy,” Dean said, hefting the kid higher in his arms. Cole’s cheek pressed against his neck and he could feel the child’s heartbeat against his shoulder. From the day he was born, Cole had formed an attachment to Dean that not even a young-Sam had been able to rival. For a while, Dean had to move in because he was the only one who could calm the infant when he cried. Now whenever he visited, Cole clung to him to like a starfish, rarely letting Dean out of his sight.

         “Hi, I’m Diane,” the woman said, reaching out a hand. Dean was surprised by her strong grip. “Nice to meet you. Looks like Cole is happy to see his Uncle Dean.”

         “Yeah, Cole and I go way back. Right, bud?”

         To everyone’s surprise, Cole nodded. Usually, when he was having a ‘bad’ day, he refused to answer anyone. But this time he nodded and then smiled, patting Dean on the cheek and then pointing to him while looking back at Diane.

         “I see,” Diane said, obviously impressed. “Looks like Uncle Dean is very special to you.” Cole’s grin grew wider and Sam’s heart stuttered at the scene: his big brother holding his son, a miniature version of himself, both wearing the same smile. It was moments like this that made Sam sure he’d done the right thing by getting out of hunting but still letting Dean play an active role in his life.

         “I’m baaaack!” Tyler announced, running back down the hallway, droplets of water flying behind him as he was soaked from fingertip to elbow, shirtsleeves flapping. Sarah groaned. Cole wriggled to be put down and Dean obliged, watching the twins run to the kitchen together.

         “I’ll see you next week,” Diane promised.

         When she left, everyone else sat down at the table, Cole on one side of Dean while Tyler sat next to his mother with Sam at the head of the table. Again, Dean couldn’t help but remember his childhood as he leaned over to cut up Cole’s chicken, his breath catching in his throat as Cole’s dimples reminded him exactly of Sam. He loved hunting but there was something special about just sitting at the dinner table and making sure the kids didn’t stab their eyeballs out with their forks. There were times when Dean liked this feeling, this domesticity that Sam had sank into so easily.

         After dinner, he played downstairs with Cole and Tyler until their bedtime and when he had read enough bedtime stories to put an entire elementary school to sleep, his tiptoed out of the room and went to watch TV with Sam and Sarah, reveling in the normality of everything in this house. Sam had it so easy; nothing ever came after him, he never had to go after anything. Sarah was a bombshell in both looks and personality, and the kids weren’t really that much trouble. Not like a vampire or a shapeshifter was.

         Dean took that last statement back when he was woken up at seven the next morning by four bony knees jabbing into his back.

         “Eeerrrr,” he groaned. “Sam?” High pitched giggling and the sheets twisted over his legs.

         “No,” the same voice giggled. “It’s Tyler and Cole.” Dean cracked an eye. Two tiny faces stared back at him, one set of hazel eyes, one set of green, both of them glowing with laughter. Dean flopped back on the bed and gave an exaggerated sigh.

         “Where’s your mother? Isn’t she supposed to keep you in line?” This time, Tyler’s laugh bordered on hysterical and Dean felt spit hit his forehead.

         “Mama’s not here. Only Daddy. He and you have to play with us all day long!” This time, Dean’s eyes opened for real and he sat up, Tyler tumbling to the foot of the bed while Cole just crept closer and buried himself under Dean’s arm, pressing to his side. Dean removed the child’s thumb from his mouth, knowing it was a habit Sarah and Sam wanted kicked.

         “Big boys don’t suck their thumbs,” he reminded his nephew and Cole blinked up at him before forming a tight fist around the wet digit. Sam’s head popped around the door.

         “Oh good, they found you.”

         “Good?” Dean said as Tyler crawled to his other side, grinning up at his father. Sam couldn’t resist; he pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture. Both his sons in bed with their Uncle Dean? The blackmail options were endless and oh so golden. “How is this good?” Dean wanted to know.

         “You love it,” Sam said. “Don’t lie.” A sticky hand brushed against Dean’s bicep and Tyler giggled again. “Alright, all three of you get your butts out of bed. We’re getting dressed and going to the grocery store.” Tyler slipped off the bed – he had too much energy to stay still for long – while Dean made a noise of protestation.

         “Grocery shopping? Is the sun even up yet?” Sam gave him a look of warning as he scooped Cole out of the bed with one arm while ripping the blankets off of Dean with the other.

          “Up and at ‘em,” Sam said. “Sarah’s orders.”

          Dean couldn’t help thinking that when he was hunting he didn’t have to take orders from anyone but himself. And he definitely preferred it that way.

          He didn’t have to worry about the sun being up because by the time they actually got the twins in the car and strapped into their carseats, it was after nine and there had been a grand total of four temper tantrums. One because Tyler wanted to wear his sandals even though it was December, one because Cole didn’t want milk with his cereal, and two simultaneously when both boys realized they wouldn’t be taking the Impala. Tears were still trickling down Cole’s cheeks as they pulled out of the driveway.

          “When we have more time, okay guys? Mom has us on a tight schedule. First is the grocery store and then we have to go get some tools. But Uncle Dean will take you for a ride soon. Right, Dean?”

          “Sure thing,” Dean said, twisting around in the passenger. Cole was staring at his hands while Tyler nodded.

          “Okay, Daddy.” The little boy sniffed and Dean turned back around, glad they had dodged a bullet. Maybe this kid thing actually was stressful. It was nine-thirty and Dean needed a nap. Or maybe he was just getting old.

           No, no, definitely not.

           When they got to the grocery store, Cole refused to leave Dean’s side to go into the kids program and Tyler didn’t want to go by himself. To keep everyone happy, Sam let both boys stay with the adults while they shopped, provided they didn’t let go of the cart.

           “You hear me? Neither one of you lets go.” The twins nodded and little fingers wrapped around the metal, knuckles turning white at the grip.

           For a while, everything was fine. Despite some lingering fingers and dragging feet, they progressed through the produce section and then the meat department with relative ease; Sam focused on the list Sarah had left behind while Dean tried to entertain the boys as much as possible, not an easy thing to do in a grocery store.

           “Hey Dean, come over here for a second.” They were in the cereal aisle and Sam was having a difficult time locating the specific cereal on the list. “I can’t find this granola chex stuff that Cole likes.”

           “That’s a thing?” Dean asked, leaving the boys with the cart while he went to help Sam search.

           “Apparently,” Sam said, shrugging. “I don’t know. Didn’t we just used to eat Cheerios?”

           “Or an apple,” Dean said.

           “I remember for a week, we split a banana each.”

           “Ah yes,” Dean said, as if the memory was a fond one. “I forgot about that one.”

           “I figure if they want granola chex cereal, they can have it. Hell, I’d feed them marshmallows for breakfast if that’s what they wanted.”

           “Let’s not get carried away,” Dean said, thinking about his morning awakening. “They don’t need any help causing trouble. Do you, guys?”

           Except when they both turned around, there was no one holding onto the cart. There was no one else in the aisle at all besides the two Winchesters.

           “Oh shit,” Dean said.

           “Oh my god,” Sam said, dropping the list and sprinting to the end of the aisle. “Tyler? Cole?” Dean followed close behind him. “Tyler! Buddy where are you?”

           There were no children at the end of the aisle or in either of the adjoining ones. Dean couldn’t believe it; how far could two five-year-olds go in two minutes? The answer was far, apparently.

           “Should we split up?” Dean asked. Sam seemed to have frozen, not exactly the reaction of an ex-hunter. But fatherhood had changed Sam in more ways than one and his fight or flight response was null and void.

            “I don’t know,” Sam moaned, searching frantically with his eyes, craning his neck without moving his feet from where he stood. Dean wanted to push him just to see if he’d topple over. “Sarah’s going to kill me.”

            “Calm down,” Dean said. “They’re not going to leave the store. Right?” He and Sam came to the same conclusion at the same time: the boys knew very well the entrance of the store and just outside was a busy parking lot, the only thing barricading them from an even busier highway. The color drained out of Sam’s face.

            “Dean…”

            “Go check the exit,” Dean ordered. “I’ll look around here.” The orders seemed to knock some action into Sam and he left jogging.

            “Tyler? Cole! Come on guys, answer me!” Dean walked through the store at a fast clip, peeking into the aisles one by one and finding nothing.

            “Sarah’s gonna kill us,” he muttered to himself, panic rising in him like a flush. He’d lost Sam once – just once – in a bookstore when they were kids and those five minutes were among the worst of his life. He thought his heart was going to come out the bottom of his feet and his throat would close. He’d thought he was dying until he found Sam curled up in a back corner, a stack of books at his side despite being too young to read.

           “Tyler?” Calling Cole’s name wasn’t going to help; the kid wouldn’t answer back. People were starting to stare and Dean was starting to sweat and he had just turned around to restart his search when a crash came from near the front of the store. Dean bolted, sprinting down the nearest aisle and almost knocking over a woman he would have shamelessly flirted with if he hadn’t been freaking out.

            Tyler’s tell-tale giggling gave them away.

            He heard the boy before he saw the two of them, lying on the floor underneath a pile – a mountain – of bath towels. They were both draped in them, sitting on top of them, Cole had one wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.

            “Guys!” Dean shouted, not caring that multiple people were watching him. He dropped to his knees and skidded the rest of the way, disturbing the fluffy mess before him.

            “Uncle Dean!” Tyler crowed and Cole reached for his uncle. Dean enveloped both of them in a hug.

            “We told you to hold onto the cart!” Dean said. “And then you disappeared.”

            Tyler eyes went wide as he suddenly remembered the rule but Cole’s grin couldn’t be dimmed.

            “I’m sorry, Uncle Dean,” Tyler said and Cole nodded vigorously along with him. “We’re really sorry.”

            “It’s okay,” Dean said. “But we gotta tell your dad so he can stop freaking out.”

            “We made a pretty cool fort though, didn’t we?” Tyler asked, slipping his hand into Dean’s while Cole scrambled onto his uncle’s back, holding on tight as Dean stood.

            “Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Dean agreed. “Maybe we can make one when we get home. And not in the grocery store.”

            “You’re the coolest uncle ever!” Tyler said and Dean felt Cole nodded against his back.

            There were a lot of things Dean loved about hunting: he loved the adrenaline rush, the thrill of saving people, the women. Hunting was in Dean’s blood, the same way parts of his DNA ran in his nephew’s veins. He could never undo that part of his life and he didn’t want to.

            But sometimes hearing “You’re the coolest uncle ever!” was pretty great too.


End file.
